


Stargazers

by BloodyDruddigons



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Eldritch, F/M, Horror/Thriller, Insanity, Mystery, One giant patchwork theory on the nature of Eternatus, Probably btyu later on, Psychic Gloria, Psychic trainer Gloria, Psychological Thriller, Rating May Change, Tags will be added, different POVs, elder gods, experimental fic, introspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyDruddigons/pseuds/BloodyDruddigons
Summary: Where did the idea of wishing upon stars originate?Gloria searches for knowledge of Eternatus and its nature, unaware that knowledge is not meant for the mortal mind... and finds out what happens when one messes with eldritch forces.
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Yuuri | Gloria
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. Gloria’s Log

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my first multi-chapter fic, as well as my first "experimental fic", meaning I don't have a set plan for this; I'm making it up as I go along. (Because man, was it sitting on the back burner for a long time or what!)
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy!

XX-XX-XXXX, Pokemon Research Lab

  


Where did the idea of wishing upon stars originate?

  


No, really, who first thought miracles were somehow connected to flickering dots in the sky?

  


I’m sure historians could give at least some clues to a boring answer. But it doesn’t matter; the answer’s not why this question’s been keeping me awake the past few nights. 

  


Across from me sits Hop, gleeful as ever, and Professor Sonia, eyes expressing a naïveté to my predicament that surpasses even her assistant’s. By my side is, of course, my Malamar partner, Blink, glaring at the two with what I assume is irritation at their obliviousness. I can't blame him, nor do I desire to. Even given that I haven't told them a thing yet, the circles under my eyes, or at least my constant yawning, should have hinted at something off-kilter.

  


"Get in pretty late last night, did ya, mate? Or did your Beheeyem's blinking keep you up again?" Hop asks with a cheeky grin - I can hardly tell if he's joking or just that dense. For as much cheer as he brings to my life, he can also frustrate me immensely at times. This man, the trainer who befriended the legendary Zamazenta, one of the saviors of Galar, was failing to fathom my reason for even coming to this lab in the first place. Sonia's foolishness is a bit more forgivable, I suppose, but she's supposed to be the master in understanding the dynamaxing phenomenon. Did her sensors not notice it fall from the sky a week ago? If even she can't help me identify this, there's going to be a problem. 

  


I can barely let out a word as Sonia pours me another cup of tea. The potent aroma of bergamot and orange, under normal circumstances, would animate me fully for an entire day of champion duties. This morning, however, it barely rouses me enough to allow me to speak. "I wish it was Beheeyem's fault for my insomnia. But I'm afraid there's something more... enigmatic... behind it. I apologize for the lack of pleasantries, but I'm here on business." Working up nearly every bit of the energy I have left, I pull out and unwrap a stone not unlike a Wishing Star. One deep pore in the stone reveals what appears to be a glowing, blinking core of an unnatural shade of pink, and though it's cold to the touch, as I hold my hand near the stone, I can once again feel that creeping warmth through not only my entire arm, but my very spine as well. "Any idea what this is?" From the whites of their eyes, I can tell the answer is no.

  


"Wow! Gloria, where did you find this?! It's even bigger than our Wishing Stars! And weirder looking..."

  


"A week or so ago, it fell from the sky towards the den where I fought that Gigantamaxed Grimmsnarl. If I hadn't snatched it up first, some stupid kid was going to throw it into the den to see what would happen."

  


The two give me mildly shocked expressions. "Whoa, mate! Real considerate, calling a kid stupid..." 

  


"Hop. Just look at this thing. It doesn't seem like something _anyone_ should mess around with, least of all a kid. Even Rose wasn't just goofing around with Eternatus, and look what he unleashed!"

  


Their surprise disappears, but from the pensive atmosphere I can tell neither of them are fully convinced by my statement. 

  


"...It does look more unusual than anything Gran or I have ever studied..."

  


"Exactly, and you can see how. But what I need to understand is why. It's not just the appearance that worries me, it's what happened after the crash. Once the dust settled, I saw something weird from the stone, as though it was reacting with the den."

  


Once again, their eyes widened, reminding me, to my misery, how lucky they are not to have witnessed the event. "Reacting...? How?"

  


I sigh, and begin my account. "It's hard to describe the effect in too much detail, but you see that hole in the stone? That was the part facing the den after the stone stopped rolling. Almost immediately, a load of energy came flowing out of the den, into the hole. And this was happening after I collected all the watts possible from the den for that day."

  


Finally, a twinge of concern in their eyes. Still nothing compared to my terror, but at least I may be getting _something_ through to them.

  


"So where that energy came from, I have no idea, but then things got even weirder. While the energy kept streaming in, the hole projected some image, or worse, in front of it. Some sort of space similar to a den, only the things in it were... I can't even begin to illustrate them. It was almost as if the space was twisting everything inside in ways that shouldn't exist, or the space itself was twisted. What's more... I don't even know if those things existed at all, like the space was a vacuum, but at the same time, wasn't...?" 

  


Oh, dear. Once more, they fail to comprehend the experience, not that I was doing any better in that regard. But now, they're starting to brush it off as insanity. "Gloria, I really think you need sleep."

  


"Just let me finish, please. That's when I noticed a group of kids watching the whole thing, and that particularly hyper kid bragging about throwing it into the den for fun. He clearly didn't understand what he saw, or he'd have been cowering at it, not walking toward the stone. So I ran and grabbed it, and had Blink teleport us home before the kid had a chance to steal it. Once I touched it, the projection stopped, and the energy faded, as if it was never there to begin with. But it unsettles me every time I pick it up, or even come close to it. Here, bring your hands near it, you'll see what I mean - not near the hole!" I gasp as I slap Hop's hand away, making him jump back. 

  


The two turn to me, both clearly startled at this point. "What's up with you, mate?! You were never this high-strung before!" 

  


Sonia chimes in, voice trembling ever so slightly. "Gloria, even if you're right that this stone is dangerous, you're starting to sound like a lunatic. Go home and get some rest, all right? We'll take a look at it in the meantime. And we won't do anything reckless, so calm down!" 

  


Right. Calm down. _Sleep._ Like I can do any of that right now.

  


Nevertheless, Blink and I thank them and return home, ignoring the squeals and hollers of "Champion Gloria!!!" as we endure the trek through Wedgehurst. At least the Wooloo we walk past afterwards mind their own business.

  


Finally walking in the door is a breath of fresh air for a moment. Peace. Quiet. No one around. Not even Mum, the luckiest of us all. To worry that I have not called her in a week is nothing. To worry of abominations, as I have - she's lucky, for Johto has not a single reason to fear the eldritch. Yet.

  


I sit on my bed, waiting, mulling over the horrendous things I saw yet failed to see. The rhythm of Blink's lights signals clues I have yet to decipher, so he tells me from his mind. It is his business to ensure my mind stays sharp; he does not talk, yet he speaks, and always in riddles. Time has no meaning to either of us until I look out the window, and find that the moon has risen. It happens to be full tonight, I notice. Normally I wouldn't, but as I ponder and reveal the true nature one of Blink's riddles, I find that the night sky is indeed of my concern. Exactly how, I have yet to learn.

  


So here I lie on my bed, wide awake, dreaming of horror. No reason whatsoever to shut my eyes. I refuse to even bother waiting for the sleep that does not owe me kindness.

  


...

  


* * *

  


XX-XX-XXXX, Home

  


It appears I have somehow managed to sleep until noon.

  


Huh.

  


...

  


Blink sits at the same place on the bed, as still as he was last night. Beheeyem hovers down the staircase, saying nothing. Meowstic plays with her yarn ball, tossing it up into the air, then carefully unraveling a bit of it, willing the strand to wiggle like a Sandaconda. Espeon has made breakfast that was eaten a while ago, from the looks of his mess in the kitchen that Intelleon is cleaning. 

  


That leaves Zacian, whose whereabouts have been unknown to me since the day I unearthed the source of my sleepless nights. Not that I mind or care; they are free to roam where they please, as far as I'm concerned. I am well aware that I possess no authority to bind my superior to my beck and call at every possible moment, and no room to act otherwise. Furthermore, perhaps most importantly, perhaps least (it does not matter which), I have no shred of need for Zacian right now. As though a dog with a sword in their mouth would be of any assistance to me in this case. 

  


Espeon serves me my breakfast... It's lunch now, I suppose. I thank him and begin with the salad, staring at Blink to silently ask if he has had any sustenance since the sun rose. He signals no; I know enough about his light patterns to get what this one means. I also know enough to understand the nature of his answer; even the unpredictable reveal their pattern given time. He has eaten, and so has the energy to silently mock my fallacy. I curse myself at my failure to understand basic astronomy, as Blink and the plethora of reference frames cackle for the same reason. Whether it was the sun that rose, or the Earth, does not matter, for the Universe doesn't even give a damn as to which way is "up". How disgustingly foolish of me! Ugh!

  


Making a mental reminder to always specify my frame of reference, I continue my salad. The greens of our farm here in Postwick carry the earthiness of its rustic charm, and the apples possess a tartness that balances the sweetness well. Great match for the emulsified Nomel berry dressing Espeon has thoughtfully prepared. As I finish the salad and set my sights on the cheese omelet, Espeon serves me a mug of perhaps the strongest coffee ever to come into contact with my nose. I jump a bit at the scent, yet thank Espeon profusely. If he makes coffee, specifically _that_ coffee, rather than tea, he knows of my exhaustion. What can I say; he's a kind soul. No one deserves his sweetness, much less myself. But he's made it clear he needs me.

  


The power of the brew assaults my tongue, yet clears my mind by the time I finish the omelet, thank Arceus. Espeon smiles at me, and returns the dishes to Intelleon before hopping onto the bed, a tad concerned as to my continued pensive state. I can tell from our basic telepathy that he is offering to listen in case I need to let any thoughts or emotions out. A polite "No" is almost the answer I provide, but then Hop and Sonia come to mind, mainly their ignorance, therefore I ask Espeon if I may accept. He tells me there's no need for me to ask, of course, but the way I see it, such courtesy from him must be returned, for his own sake. I tell him of my fears, of the two potentially abusing the stone, of sending chaos into the world, of what the stone could mean for reality, of how even I know nothing about it. He gently places his paw on my shoulder, reassuring me that even the Darkest Day was nothing for me, Hop, and our respective allies, Zacian and Zamazenta. That thought does provide a little solace, if only that. Perhaps Zacian may be of some use after all, if it becomes clear that I need them. And if so, they will come to me first.

  


I give Espeon a smile and thank him once more, for the food, the coffee, the peace of mind, the everything. The peace is minute, regardless, it somehow feels like an entire weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Just in time for the daily riddle of the meaning behind Beheeyem's blinking this time. And, those of you mocking me for understanding Blink but not Beheeyem, _you_ fools try learning to read the blinking of a Malamar, then that of a Beheeyem - the first task alone is a behemoth, even for a psychic such as myself. Only recently have I mastered the first, and thus begun the second. I can assure you, a Beheeyem's signals are _nothing_ like a Malamar's, whatsoever. And neither Blink nor Beheeyem will allow me to forget so easily.

  


Her arm vibrates with minimal amplitude as her fingers switch on and off wildly. A brief pause in both the vibrations and the flashing precede another round of both, followed by another pause, then by yet another round. Paused again, resumed, repeated like a phone in vibrate mode. 

  


Oh, my Arceus - My mind snaps its attention to the Rotom phone in my pocket, ringing silently to the rhythm of Beheeyem's vibration pattern. The Rotom within sits there and laughs impishly while I curse my own stupidity once more. Necessity must've warranted this far more primitive - dare I say _human_ \- method of communication over that of the Beheeyem. At least I still possess the faculty to tell that meant the call was urgent enough to require quick action. I have wasted enough time as it is.

  


Rotom's eyes remain glazed over with lethargy as I grab the phone manually, and answer the second I notice the caller is, thank Arceus, Hop. In that case, I sigh internally, relieved. Hop is calling without having induced some obvious calamity upon Galar; something must be going right. Either that, or the calamity is subtle - put that out of your head, Gloria, you're unnerving Espeon again. Haven't you given him enough cause for concern today?

  


"Glo? You there?"

  


"Wha-? Oh, sorry... Yeah. I'm here now."

  


"What's with you, barely responding? It's like you were in a trance or something."

  


"Sorry, was just thinking about... something."

  


He pauses for a moment. "...Yeah, believe me, we notice that you've been doing a whole lot of thinking, mate. Actually, so have we - you were right, that stone's definitely got weird properties, but we still can't begin to guess what or why, even after all our tests." I jump off the bed in near-shock, grabbing my bag and recalling my team before he even says it. "The results of the newest test look like something you might want to come look at yourself. Details of whatever you saw out by the den might help us process this thing."

  


"I'll be there in 10, leaving the house right now." I lie, seeing as I'm almost past Hop's house by the time those words leave my mouth. Blink leads the way, not a single pattern flickering from him. Either he is not saying anything, or he is saying nothing, and frankly I am failing to discern which notion would be worse at the current moment.

  


I can barely hear anyone's cries in Wedgehurst. Blink probably silenced them, if they were even calling for my autograph or something at all. Though no amount of quiet eases my contempt for the spectacle-obsessed masses, the cool air assailing my skin upon entry to the lab returns my full attention to the subject at hand. I sprint up the stairs as fast as my feet can carry me, up to where Hop and Sonia, engaged in what appears to be the recording of signals, turn their heads. "All right, I'm here. Quick - what did you find?"

  


The two exchange concerned glances, seemingly unaware that I am right in front of them. "Easy, Glo! ...Y'know what, never mind that. You see that screen right there?" He points to a machine currently encasing the stone, with a single large display showing a multitude of differing sinewaves. "Take a look at that last one. We can't be sure exactly what it means just yet, but see how it resembles a heartbeat?" 

  


I stare at it a moment to find the waves indeed resemble heartbeats to some degree. "True... All the pulses have different times between them, though... As well as different amplitudes."

  


About this time, Sonia steps in. "Exactly. It's not just a weird series of heartbeats that's off, though. Heartbeats in most species are physical movements... But this wave is measuring the mean spin of electrons in this thing's core. Are you aware of Shroedinger's Espurr, Gloria?" 

  


The tilt of my head assures her that I am not. "Ok, essentially it works like this. Say you open a box with an Espurr inside, and it has a non-definite chance of being alive upon the box's opening. So there are two possible outcomes when you open the box, where you see _either_ a live _or_ a dead Espurr." I nod. "The idea is that before you've opened the box to tell whether the Espurr is alive or dead, the Espurr exists in a state where it is _both_ alive _and_ dead at the same time." I raise an eyebrow. "That's just an example, the point is that until a property of something, an electron in this case, is measured somehow, it's in all possible states at the same time. _But_ , once it's measured, it's fixed. The spins should stay in the same state, since we're measuring them continuously - well, "continuously" is an illusion, we won't go there - but for some reason, they keep shifting. I won't go into too much detail, but either we're doing something wrong, or, more likely given the heartbeat pattern, the electrons entangled with the ones in this stone are having their spins switched by something." 

  


"Entangled...?"

  


"Oh, right! Sorry... Basically, something elsewhere is manipulating electrons connected to these over a distance. It's like wireless communication, only instantaneous and without the need for a medium. So this heartbeat is based on electron spin rather than macroscopic motion. But, certain pokemon, like those unreliant on a physical forme, can still have heartbeats..."

  


She shivers at my focused stare, leaving me to fill in the blanks. "Eternatus. You think what you're seeing is Eternatus' heartbeat.

  


"...Yes. This stone may well be a piece of Eternatus. A potentially vital piece that, while not attached, doesn't need to be."

  


Even I shudder at the thought. Eternatus was certainly an... enigmatic... force to be reckoned with, without a doubt. But for _this_ to be a part of them, and connected without a care for proximity? All fear the unknown, even I. It is a primitive function, and therefore a human one.

  


"Gloria... Since you're Eternatus' trainer, we think this stone would be best off in your hands. None of us know Eternatus very well, but at least you know them up close. If something happens, you'll know how to handle it best. Just... bring it back to the lab IMMEDIATELY if we call about more tests, all right? Promise us that."

  


"I will. Thank you for providing some insight... Might clear my mind." The last statement is a lie, and they can both tell.

  


"And for Arceus' sake, Glo, don't go out until you get some more rest! The bags under your eyes are scary, please, don't die on us..." Hop fails to cease wincing.

  


"All right, all right. I'll go home to sleep right now, if it's any sort of compensation... Thank you both once more." That seems to satisfy them. They show me and Blink the door, Hop still wincing at my exhausted state. If only I could switch it off as fast as entangled electrons could switch each other's spins... Ugh...

  


Blink presents hesitant patterns all the way home, all suggesting I keep my promise to Hop. Both are right; a lack of sleep does not beget clear thinking whatsoever. Indeed, my thoughts turn blurry... Must make it through front door

  


* * *

  


XX-XX-XXXX, Home

  


I awake from my bed to see Espeon first thing, smiling as he wills a glass of water over to me. I question why water is the first thing he provides, until I take the first sip and feel to my core how badly I need it. Not a second passes between my final gulp of the first glass and my first gulp of another. 

  


Three glasses in total, and I'm already queasy; Espeon pleads for me to drink at a slower pace next time. Much slower. He does, however, seem pleased that I've hydrated, not to mention slept. It is at this point that my attention turns to the sheets covering me... Espeon is undoubtedly the kindest of souls. He cares whether or not I fall asleep in a proper, comfortable bed, rather than against the wall, as I would allow myself to do. But he did not have to bother himself to tuck me in... Not that I haven't missed the warmth of my blankets... Even as tired as I am, I haven't rested this well since I discovered that blasted stone. I have called Espeon a gift from the heavens before; I realize I must cease referring to him as such as I turn to the nightstand where the eldritch heart lies. Gifts from the heavens beget nothing but danger and madness. 

  


Once again, I fail to realize my need for sustenance until I take the first bite of toast (which I normally am not fond of). Nomel berry jelly would be delicious, but generally not on toast, I suppose that is why Espeon chose to use Mago berry jam instead. I also taste a hint of dryness, suggesting the presence of Chesto berry juice mixed with the jam. Over bitter nine-grain toast, the two work well together. Or is that only according to my palate? Either way, Espeon always gets it right - what I want and what I need. 

  


Then, thank Arceus, he takes my cleaned plate and sends a very smoky black tea my way... Lapsang Souchong, perhaps? It must be, he knew well not to sweeten a tea as robust as this. One sip, and I can already tell why he did not make me the coffee. As soon as I finish the rest, I leave the bed with some semblance of clarity, though it feels like energy is coursing through me compared to all of last week. In fact, I'd almost be foolish enough to say I could demystify the reason Eternatus' organs don't require physical attachment now. Almost.

  


As if to test my musing, Blink descends the stairs, mentioning to me and Espeon that Meowstic desires our presence, and that of the stone. I wrap it back up in its cloth and carry it myself, fearing the results of any sort of contact between it and the psychic energy transmitted through telekinesis. Blink has displayed an aversion to even make an attempt at such, and, while I mentioned a while back that he teleported me just fine while I was holding the stone, he explained that teleportation manipulates space, therefore it does not involve direct contact with the target. Though, given the noise and hesitance in his flashes as he described it, I see he knew that fact did not matter with regards to the unreal... It is a rare moment that Blink takes risks. I doubt very much he would attempt that sort of move again.

  


The smell of paint still looms in the air up here; it surprises me that Meowstic would even tolerate this for a second. But, here we are, in an attic that a few months ago did not even exist, furnished with nothing but two lounge chairs and a coffee table so far. I take a seat on one, noting the odd comfort newly-made chairs provide. That only lasts a second before Meowstic requests our attention, and I scold myself for putting a chair before her. Really, Gloria.

  


She floats her old yarn ball, saliva-laden and frayed, in the air, which someone like Hop would take as a request to play. Hop has learned well from the last time he did so, albeit painfully. At her request, I unwrap the stone, core pulsing eerily away from the yarn as she sets it down. Images then fill my head, forming her account of a discovery last night. 

  


Under a waning gibbous, while I lied almost unmoving in bed, she roamed around for her new yarn ball, taking a peek under the nightstand to find it alongside the old one. Yet, while the new one barely moved, it shook strangely, its vibrations indiscernible. Worse, though, it was the old ball that oscillated wildly, almost bouncing off the floor as though it was _pulsing_ -

  


My association ends her story abruptly. 

  


Pulsing. 

  


Right under the nightstand, beating like the heart mere feet above it. 

  


The minute Meowstic learns of my comparison, she shudders, asking for a detailed description of the exact knowledge I have gained. I tell her of the stone, of the heartbeat, of entanglement. 

  


As I approach my final subject of Eternatus, my speech begins to falter, in the sense that I perform less speaking and more mumbling, until the rare syllables give way to mostly nothing. It is no malfunction of my jaw, but rather my mind, as though I was losing my motivation to talk with each word that leaves my throat. “Meow…?” Her sound is packed with no small amount of apprehension; it is a common occurrence to hear me mouth words of near silence to myself, but not to my companions. A small, dissonant humming becomes apparent - the heart beats stronger now… but why…?

  


Failing to muster the appropriate levels of willpower to speak, I turn to my “telepathy”, attempting to pass my idea of a dismembered yet functioning monstrosity on to Meowstic. Yet I stumble once more, thought process blurring as one’s vision would. From Meowstic’s expression, I can tell that she senses the static in my mind. It almost feels like the mental fog from exhaustion or fatigue, but there is something about it that seems… off, and Meowstic can see the difference as well, for she utters an even louder “Meow!!”. Even Blink begins to flash concern; from his intervention I know something to fear is indeed afoot… yet the more I exert my will, the more distorted my thoughts become, not just blurry, but… they twist, almost, revealing something, I have no idea as to what, but _something_ is there, something I must seek. It is no mental image, as that suggests even a modicum of a visual, but my mind does not form images at this moment. Not words. Not sounds. This goes beyond the senses, something even more powerful than one could reach… Do I even want to probe further?

  


“Meow! Meow!! Meow!!!”

  


Of course, our link is severed. I try to return to my senses. But, though I succeed, I fail miserably. I regain mental control, but there’s that one part of me, nagging to know more, remnants of the thought living as virtually audible whispers I can’t merely ignore.

  


Espeon backs away slowly in trepidation. What was there for him to fear? What was there for me to fear, now that I was fine? Well, fine enough, right?

  


“One last time, Meowstic. I promise…” My trailing does not satisfy her, she urges that I give up on informing her, she apologizes for even asking about my experiences. No, I refuse to stop, we have to know! No, no, no, that wasn’t why I spoke up… what were we studying this for, again? What does it mean?

  


_What does anything mean?_

  


That whisper isn’t in any real language I’m aware of… yet I understand it perfectly.

  


_I want to know._

  


What I do next is barely under my control, as though some other force is whispering the suggestion to my mind... No, that's ridiculous, I'd be able to tell, but why else am I doing this...?

  


Rapidly, Blink flashes dire warnings, shaking in fear. Meowstic's fur jumps on end as she scampers downstairs to reach the others. Espeon begs me to stop, tears in his eyes, but try as I might, I cannot contain myself.

  


I point the heart's hole at the yarn ball.

  


And I live to regret it.


	2. Transmutation

_Transmutation: The act of changing one type of matter into another._

  


XX-XX-XXXX, Home

  


We all stare at what was once a yarn ball lying before us.

  


A ball of rope barely seems like anything, but that it was not one before remains startling.

  


As quickly as they appear, the whispers dissipate, and I am left with full cognizance of my actions, though not my motivations behind them, which remains a mystery. Meowstic peeks cautiously from the stairwell, apparently confused as to why there wasn’t a grand explosion or something of the sort. “It’s fine, Meowstic, you can come back up here. You might want to see this.” A peek at the rope, and she scratches her head. Even Blink appears baffled by the absence of more dire occurrences, though he is still suspicious of what has transpired. I cannot blame him, for the origin of this transmutation _was_ the heart, after all. Espeon seems relieved by the rope, but what occupies more of his mind is severe concern toward my own health and mental state. He silently walks toward me, making a small worried noise complementing his usual telepathy, asking if I’m all right. 

  


I am now, I suppose. But that doesn’t convince either of us.

  


From Blink’s confusion, what happened was far more benign than expected, meaning my actions were more than dangerous, perhaps worse than deadly, yet my mind contains no trace of guilt, with curiosity and confusion occupying my emotions instead. In fact, that is my entire team’s emotional state, there is no need for guilt or blame here, not when knowledge can be gained. Given the chance, they too would roll the dice, even more so than I. That’s why everyone here understands my actions were likely not entirely my own.

  


Espeon sighs in relief that whatever force it was that compelled me to endanger everything, it has freed my will from its clutches, at least for now. Rubbing his head up against my leg, he asks if I’d like to sleep, though Blink immediately shuts the idea down, for the recent events most likely warrant immediate attention, even if it only resulted in a large ball of relatively thin rope. Yet Espeon refuses to cease, instead pleading that we examine the rope in my room, and that I rest afterwards. That seems to satisfy all of us, especially myself. As curious as I am, nearly losing my mind has driven me to exhaustion.

  


The blankets are warm and soft, they would feel irresistibly inviting to me were my guard down. At this moment, however, they’re comforting enough that they actually sharpen my focus by dulling my fears. Here, I can remain sharp for as long as I need to, then recharge -

  


…

  


…I am well aware of what Hop may say about my circumstances, and the inherent naïveté in the very phrase nearly boils my blood. It is thoroughly, completely, doubtlessly impossible to “catch two Rookidee with one ball”, and whomever originally coined the phrase deserves to have their brains pecked out by a Corviknight. To hold multiple pokemon in one abstract system even remotely similar to that of a pokeball _violates the laws of physics_.

  


One. Can. Not. Defy. Science. 

  


And so my fear of the heart transforms into pure frustration at its effects on the yarn ball. This thing nearly tripled in mass, yet I find Blink struggling to find any source of the energy required to provide such mass. Apparently, none of the energy in the heart was depleted, nor was it taken from anywhere my team can detect. As though the yarn magically grew into rope. Which is bleeding _ridiculous_. “Something” cannot come from “nothing”, and most certainly not through “magic”! UGH!

  


How I hate that word. _Magic._

  


Only fools use it, and even then only when they need to explain incidents which they themselves are too inept to understand. For something to just appear out of thin air, or a human to transform into a Palpitoad, or making anyone fall in love using a wave of a wand, is all pure ignorance at its most atrocious. The fact that humans are fundamentally incapable of simple intelligence is not an excuse to misclassify phenomena! Of course, barely comprehensible occurrences are everywhere, but that is the result of the limits of human comprehension, not reality, for there is no event that cannot be explained as part of an intricate system of physics, mathematics, and chaos. To call it “magic” would mean a complete loss of sanity, if not mere stupidity, and I’ve come to find throughout my interactions with the people of Galar and beyond that the latter is always the underlying cause. 

  


To press the point, look no further than to present times. Humanity thinks it’s outgrown what it calls a silly little irrational phase, yet if there’s one thing science has failed to accomplish, it’s the removal of laziness from the human mind. It’s as though, I don’t know, ignorance _might_ be more than just a phase? Perhaps, it could be the human condition? Tell the average passerby that, and they’d simply confirm it by laughing at you. We all like to think we’re a rational race, yet we are still decidedly superstitious.

  


That’s another thing about fools: they are so entrenched in their delirium that they cannot help but stand atop a pedestal of illusionary mental superiority. Just look at the prime example, otherwise known as Fairy-type trainers. 

  


They don’t _just_ believe in magic. No, they take the depths of ignorance to a whole new level, in believing they are one with magic themselves. To them, we who do not believe in it are the fools, the dots on the planet who are worth little more than their entertainment. I would normally commend those who would keep people on their toes through tricks and pranks - provided I was not on the receiving end, cursing them wildly - but not when their axioms are so deeply flawed. 

  


Take Opal, the former gym leader of Ballonlea, who is an expert at combining the worst of both worlds. In the first case, her so-called “fairy magic” has driven me insane more than once, during her gym challenge and beyond. I still cannot forgive her for those damned stat drops she pulled on Blink to nearly knock him out, - _and he has Contrary_. How she got past his ability, I have no clue, but if she thinks she can mock me by calling it magic, she is sorely mistaken. Which leads to the second case, where I have reason to suspect she isn’t even TRYING to mock me; she actually believes in the stuff! Ever since becoming champion, I have learned rather quickly to not step foot in Ballonlea unless I absolutely have to, lest Opal play with my patience. Sure, she acts innocent enough, but no amount of acting can deceive me, I am well aware of her motives for greeting me out of nowhere, should I go near the town at all. Even if I don’t, I occasionally run into her, and every time she pulls a new prank at me, all in a futile attempt to indoctrinate me into her “magic” cult. She seems to think I would benefit from her “wisdom”. But, toy with me as she will, ultimately it is the reverse case: she is the one lacking wisdom, for her tricks can always be explained by (sometimes rather complex) physics.

  


I would not despise her so utterly, though, were I to understand what physics are involved in her shenanigans! Try as I might, I STILL cannot see how she broke through Contrary, and as long as that’s the case, she may as well call it magic! After all, to prove a truth is nigh impossible in empirical science; only the act of disproving something can offer a hint of assurance in the form of falsification. Even axioms are mere assumptions, which every damn fairy trainer seems to ignore in favor of belief, Opal included. I can hear her words contradicting themselves in my head at the moment:

  


“There are plenty of things in this world we cannot know, child.”

  


Perhaps that is the case. Perhaps it isn’t. It does not matter.

  


_The sky is blue. Aliens are messing with our brains._

  


_Magic is real._

  


There is no justifying the use of assumptions.

  


And I _will_ falsify the last one if it kills me, just to see the look on that blasted hag’s face.

  


* * *

  


Many opulent tomes adorned the bookshelf, but it was the largest one of all that caught his eye - not because it was the largest, mind you, but rather because a sort of script that did not fully match the Galarian alphabet proudly displayed itself on said book’s thick, stately spine, announcing its foreign nature to his eyes.

  


The book itself wasn’t that hard to reach, given that the bookshelf was one of the smaller ones in the house, and that Bede was rather tall even for a Galarian man. Still, obtaining it on his own did take a fair bit of effort. The hard part, however, was keeping the book from hitting the floor, as the only slightly heavy tome proved overwhelming for Bede’s practically nonexistent arm strength.

  


Opal must’ve heard his grunting, for in a moment, her Mawile snatched the book into its dry, fanged maw, lifting it carefully yet effortlessly. With not even so much as a _plonk_ , the fairy pokemon set the strange book onto the tea table, opposite Opal. Bede thanked Mawile and took a seat, his slender fingers gently brushing the layer of dust off the cover in front of him.

  


“I see you’ve taken an interest in alchemy, hmm?” Opal asked, before lifting her teacup and taking a moment to savor the hint of bergamot in the tea.

  


Raising an eyebrow, Bede lifted his gaze towards Opal. “…Alchemy?” His eyes rested once more on the cover’s byzantine title. “Is that what this book is about?”

  


After another sip of the tea, Opal let out a gentle laugh. “Understanding this work’s contents doesn’t require knowing the title’s archaic language. Are you really not aware of what a Magnum Opus is, child?” His blank stare told her all she needed to hear. “Ah, I see. We never quite got to alchemy in your magical arts primer, so I see no harm in teaching it to you now. Tell me, what do you know of it thus far?”

  


“Hmm… I know it’s a way of changing certain materials into others. It’s sort of like chemistry, only not as mundane.”

  


“Yes, good. And do you know what works have been created from the practice?” 

  


The question sent Bede pawing into fog for a minute, feeling around in his memories for whatever sounded remotely as though it might’ve possessed alchemical origins. “…Ok. I’m almost sure the Panacea is an alchemical product.”

  


“Correct.”

  


…Was she expecting more? Bede sighed internally; of course she was. The first thing he learned during his fairy boot camp was that Ms. Opal loved to bleed his brain dry, then dole out her knowledge. “I’ve heard of homunculi, created centuries before the first ever clone was crafted through scientific means. Around the same time, the solvent crisis ended when a Gardevoir threw the only known alkahest into a black hole. Since then alkahest production has been banned, and the treatise containing its recipe was destroyed to ensure its impossibility. I don’t see why they even needed a ban if no one knows the recipe… Oh, and I know there’s been a recent movement calling for a more widespread use of alchemical window cleaners, since they’re not poisonous to Spritzee.”

  


“Good, good. And that’s all?”

  


What else did she want?! Her questions proved useful most of the time, but sometimes he could swear that she was just asking endlessly in an attempt to torment him. And damn it, she was doing an excellent job at that right now. “Urgh… yes, that’s all I know, all right?!” He nearly growled out those words, half out of frustration, half out of difficulty at the simple act of admission. For both reasons, Opal merely shook her head, laughing.

  


“Still haven’t fallen from your pedestal, have you? Not that it’s exactly bad, in your case. Anyhow, you’ve never heard of the Philosophers’ Stone, that’s for sure.”

  


Ugh, her cackling was just drilling itself further into his skull by the minute! The way Bede saw it, he had three options: Speak up, keep biting his lip until it bled, or walk away and suffer her laughter ringing in his ears for the next hour. And, frankly, he had brought this book over for knowledge, not for a damned migraine. “The Philosopher’s Stone? What does that have to do with a Magnum Opus?”

  


“HA!” Opal belted out, all but assuring Bede of a migraine in any case. “Child, the Philosophers’ Stone is the oldest and best known product in the entire history of the practice! Until you know about the Philosophers’ stone, you may as well know nothing at all about alchemy!”

  


_Breathe, Bede. Damn it, breathe._ He repeated the words in his head for a few seconds, which can easily feel like forever to a fuming ball of pride and fluffy hair. Had she no limit to the fuel she was feeding his fury with?! Yet he absolutely needed to contain himself, for the sake of his own health. Sure, she was sitting patiently, but one wrong move and she’d beat the stuffing out of him, metaphorically. Besides, as he had come to learn, everything she tormented him with was for a reason, and most often a good one. Emphasis on “most often” - her own amusement did _not_ count.

  


“All right, all right, settle down, child; I’ve had enough fun toying with you for one day. You see, alchemy has always involved making miracles happen. Plenty of uses have sprung forth from the practice, but to any alchemist worth their salt, there’s no such thing as coming too close to the sun. That “sun” is, to most alchemists, the Philosophers’ Stone, capable of most anything imaginable. It is considered the ultimate goal of alchemy, yet to date, no one has ever come close to achieving its creation, and indeed whether that is even possible remains to be understood.”

  


Some sort of light went on in Bede’s head just then, not fully lit just yet, but enough to stir no small amount of curiosity. 

  


“Not that it’s stopped anyone from trying! Throughout the centuries, indeed since the very beginning of the practice, nearly every alchemist in the world has made their own attempt at forging it. In fact, to _not_ pursue the goal of the Stone usually invited ridicule from one’s colleagues back in the day!” The humor in her last sentence seemed to carry a hint of sorrow, as though she was trying to pull back something lost in a memory of a time long passed.

  


It really should’ve been no surprise to Bede that Opal may have dabbled in alchemy before, seeing that it was a major part of magic, and therefore a common practice among fairy-type trainers. Except, perhaps, that Bede was not even aware of the latter, having invested so much of his time into pokemon battling, and little else. His former opinion on alchemy did not help the situation either, for really, what was the point in turning lead into gold? But if there was really more to the practice than that, maybe she was on to something. 

  


At any rate, Bede would’ve shaken his head at her pointless reminiscing were he not certain she would chastise him for it. For all the years Ms. Opal had on him, he knew one thing she was still learning: The past was in the past.

  


It was almost as though she could read his mind, however, for a forlorn sigh preceded Opal’s return to the present. With one arm stretching over the teapot at the table’s center, she pointed a finger to the book’s title. “Most of them have compiled pages upon pages of notes detailing their endeavors, the later works building upon those of the alchemists before, with plenty containing indiscernible scribbles or scrawled-out notes, and yet more scrapped altogether out of frustration. The ones that did make progress, on the other hand, have been compiled together into a single Great Work; that’s what the Magnum Opus is.” 

  


Once Opal removed her hand from the cover, Bede opened the book and started to turn the slightly worn pages to the introduction. “How old is this book?”

  


“Well, it’s one of the newer editions, so I’d say…” A few seconds were spent in silence, as Bede watched Opal count on her fingers. “…Maybe five years old, or so? That reminds me, I need to check the bookstore in Motostoke for any newer editions. Would you mind going there in my place tomorrow?”

  


“Leave it to me, Ms Opal.” She nodded in satisfaction, letting Bede return his focus to the introduction. Not many words of use presented themselves in the opening paragraph, but the following one, speaking of the Philosophers’ Stone and its surmised uses, captured Bede’s undivided attention. “Interesting…” The sparkle in his eyes was unmistakeable now as they raced across the page, entirely oblivious to Opal’s increasingly suspicious stare. _Oh dear, I may have made a mistake showing this to him so early on._

  


”Ms. Opal.” She looked up to see Bede still ensconced in the book, presenting the intense expression donned by many a genius before their descent into lunacy. “You said this stone was capable of most anything imaginable?”

  


“Yes, but don’t get any ideas just yet, child. For one matter, it may be little more than wishful thinking. Furthermore, you haven’t even started practicing alchemy yet. You have no idea what its basic process entails, let alone its ultimate work! What makes you think, that in trying to continue the work of failures, you yourself wouldn’t fail, hmm?” 

  


Bede nearly slammed his hands on the table as he stood up in indignation. “Because - ”

  


“ _THERE IS NO BECAUSE, BEDE!_ “ He nearly jumped at her staggering volume. “The fact that you even have an answer to my question proves that you’ve not thought carefully about it! Your chance of failure is not what concerns me - it’s what would happen, _should you succeed_.” 

  


Silence.

  


More silence, while steam rose from Opal’s teacup, while the gears turned with growing hesitance in Bede’s head. 

  


A minute passed before he gained the courage to open his mouth once more. “…What do you mean…?”

  


“You may know of the understanding the authors of this work obtained, but you’ve no clue what they lost in the process. Creating the Philosophers’ Stone is no mere trial, it is the greatest of tribulations!” Bede could only stare as Opal took the teapot’s handle into her bony hand, pouring a reddish sort of tea into Bede’s teacup. “Sit back down, child, and take a sip.”

  


Taking his seat once more, Bede reached slowly for the cup. Once his fingers were about to touch the handle, though, he faltered. “…May I ask what this particular tea is?”

  


“Exactly! Without a clue as to its nature, one must ask rather than assume. Now, let’s pretend I told you this was an immortality potion of sorts. Go ahead, drink.”

  


Ordinarily he would call a test like this one ridiculous, but if he was to find out the dangers of the Philosophers’ Stone, he’d have to grin and bear the excessive prattle. “No. What immortality are we talking about?”

  


“Aha! See, now you’re catching on. I mean complete and total immortality, where even the collapse of geometry couldn’t kill you, yet you’d still feel pain, and would soon find yourself suffering eternally in the flames of the sun from the moment it consumes the Earth. You made a good call, child, in choosing not to drink the potion. For the record, though,” she pointed to the cup of deep red liquid, “what’s in here is merely a vanilla rooibos tisane. Do try it; I believe you’ll find a smoother finish than in tea.”

  


The brew was certainly a welcome surprise for the gym leader, strong but not bitter or pungent to his tongue, the warm flavor combining with the vanilla into a most pleasant aroma. In short, it was a rather delightful compliment to Ms. Opal’s harsh lesson. 

  


“Alchemy itself is a challenge, there is little doubt there. You’ll see what I mean when we begin your training on the matter.” She took the last sip of her own tea before handing her Mawile the teacup. “But the Philosophers’ Stone is the culmination of all transmutative works, so naturally it’d consume a great deal of effort, more than any one person could handle alone.” Once Mawile presented Opal with a fresh teacup, she began to pour the tisane into it. “But effort alone is not the Stone’s price. The authors have shown that, if the creation of such a Stone is possible, that it requires the exertion of three aspects: the mind, the body, and the spirit. That means, if an alchemist is successful in the endeavor, their body would be taxed to near death, their mind taxed to near insanity, and their spirit… I can tell you see where I’m going with this.” Opal commented, noticing Bede’s pale face. 

  


_No need to bring up the damaged soul’s experience with Macro Cosmos, then._ She sighed, grateful that the path to his surface understanding did not require such a confrontation. More so, a deeper understanding of spiritual decay was not necessary for Bede, thank the stars, for the tiny bit he suffered under Oleana already granted him a hint at the immense torture he would experience if he achieved the Stone. For a man with the passion that could burn through a tidal wave, he at least could understand caution, albeit only with a good deal of pressure at times. 

  


His breathing slowed while his brow relaxed, a sign that he was backing down. “If that’s what it takes for something so pointless, forget it. What were these people even thinking?”

  


“There’s far more to be gained from the Magnum Opus than the Stone, without all the risk. Why don’t we look through the new edition together, once you’ve picked it up?” That worked. Without a desire to utterly destroy himself in search of the ultimate, his actual training could proceed smoothly.

  


“That sounds good to me.” Bede let out a small satisfied huff to himself. Even without the Philosophers’ Stone, the minute he wrapped his mind around the practice of alchemy, there would be no stopping him. Such a gym leader as clever as himself would waste no time catching on to the science - or art, or rather both, as he had come to find out, for the distinction between art and science blurred wherever magical practices were involved - grasping newfound power from knowledge, the wellspring of the most potent form of strength. 

  


Perhaps then, his power would surpass that of the champion who _still_ ran him into the ground at every turn, her damned adamance persisting all the while!

  


“Gloria’s on your mind again, I see?”

  


“Aah!” Damn it! How could she always tell when he was thinking about Gloria? He had tried everything - keeping a straight face, closing his eyes, even switching over to another thought - and yet every time Gloria entered his mind, even if only for a second, Ms. Opal would know somehow. What made his thoughts so apparent? It was bad enough that she’d never tell him the answer, but the worst was yet to come.

  


“I can’t blame you, Bede, that girl is exactly your type!” Aargh! This again?!

  


“ _Ms. Opal, for the last time, I do not have feelings for her._ ” Ok, that was a bit of a lie, he had many feelings for Gloria, specifically competitiveness, jealousy, and a hint of frustrated bewilderment. But definitely _not_ the feelings Ms. Opal was suggesting. Honestly, she almost irritated Bede as incessantly as Gloria sometimes; the main difference was that Ms. Opal had to actively pester him. Gloria, on the other hand, just had to be… Gloria. Argh.

  


“Heh. Tell me again when you believe that!” There was the worst part, the point where she stopped directly teasing and left his head to create all the torment for him. How could he love, or even fancy, someone like Gloria? Sure, her powerful intellect and serious demeanor rendered her worthy of respect from him, but love was out of the question. Just one glance at the deep void of her intense stares was enough to make him wonder if something was off-kilter in her head. Add in the standoffishness and pessimism eternally present in her very aura, and all Bede could feel upon merely gazing in her direction was frustration. Such a dire, effective rival was all she could ever be to him, unless reality itself warped, which he highly doubted would happen.

  


A soft paw at his side snapped him back to the room.

  


“Syl? Syyyyyyylveon!”

  


He turned his head to see his very own Sylveon, staring at him lovingly. Laughing for a moment, he gently scratched under her chin while Opal smirked ever so slightly.

  


_Fight them all you want Bede, but your feelings for that girl will force you into a corner soon enough. You can’t hide them from your Sylveon, and you certainly can’t hide them from me!_

  


Sylveon soon left the room, still purring with joy, as Bede returned his focus to the introduction, if for no other reason than _to stop the damned teasing._

  


“So, what, if any, use do the works of these lunatics hold for us?”

  


“The works of lunatics” was certainly a good name for the Magnum Opus.

  


He’d soon come to find that description more accurate than he thought.

  


“Well, Bede, let’s start with the formal definition of transmutation…”


End file.
